


the savior, the knight, and the wardrobe

by emmaofmisthaven



Series: Captain Swan AU Week 2015 [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Narnia, Captain Swan AU Week 2015, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 18:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4447604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaofmisthaven/pseuds/emmaofmisthaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she is fourteen, Emma falls into the wardrobe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the savior, the knight, and the wardrobe

When she is fourteen, Emma falls into the wardrobe.

It’s not a metaphor.

She is trying to hide from another kid living with her in her current foster home – twice her size and twice her weight, at least – when she comes across a wardrobe in the unused office on the second floor. As far as hiding places go, this isn’t the best one, but her arm hurts from when the boy pushed her against the wall, and Emma is as desperate as they come. So she opens the wardrobe, closes the door behind her, trips over a pair of boots, and falls into another realm.

Rationally, she knows she just hurt her head against the back of the wardrobe, blacked out, and is now hallucinating. Rationally, she knows none of this is real, none of this makes sense. But she feels the wind on her face and in her hair, smells the deep perfume of pine trees, lets the warm sun rays caress her cheeks. If this is a hallucination, it’s a pretty good one.

“Are you lost?”

Emma yelps, startled enough that she misses her footing while she turns around, ankle twisting just enough that she falls on her ass. Her eyes widen, and she forces herself not to scream in terror at the wolf in front of her – it sits like a dog, head tilted to the side in what can only be described as concern. A talking wolf is looking at her with worry in its big, reddish eyes.

Emma definitely lost her marbles.

“You’re a wolf.”

“And you’re a girl!”

The wolf wags its tail, pink tongue dandling from its mouth. Before Emma even has time to react, the wolf pounces on her – she does scream, this time, but it turns into a choked laugher when the wolf, instead of having a nibble, starts sniffing her neck. Its nose is wet and its breath warm, and Emma desperately tries to wriggle herself out of its reach. To no avail.

“Stop! Stop!”

Surprisingly, it does. The wolf jumps back, mouth wide open – it almost looks like a grin, or perhaps a laugh. Slowly, Emma sits up to look at it. Its fur is brown, almost black, with a reddish-brown crescent moon on the forehead, its eyes big and human-like, its paw soft but dangerous.

“I’m Ruby,” the wolf tells her, and only then Emma realises the voice sounds feminine. Which, alright, makes some kind of sense, if it’s a female wolf.

“I’m Emma,” she replies as she stands up and brushes away the dirt on her jeans. There are grass stains on her legs, and she winces in advance at her foster mother’s reaction. “I need to go home.”

Several things happen at once – she turns around abruptly, Ruby grabs her sleeve with her teeth, and she collides with someone’s chest.

Emma doesn’t fall again, but it’s a close thing. The wolf butts her head against the back of Emma’s thighs and the boy grabs her by the arms, so she doesn’t fall, and she looks up to him with wide eyes, only to recognize Killian’s face. He lets go of her, and she takes a step back, confused – Killian is the boy next door, and they’re in the same class. They’re not friends as much as the two loners sticking together not to be a hundred per cent alone. It’s a really sad, pathetic kind of friendship.

“What are you doing here?” Emma asks.

“Are you a boy?” Ruby asks too.

Killian ignores the talking wolf – _how_? – and instead elects to reply to Emma’s question. A wise choice, even if an illogical one. The talking wolf is _right here_.

“I came over to see if you wanted to work on our maths homework together,” he says, and scratches at that spot behind his ear. “I heard Kevin being mean to you, so I checked if you were okay and – where are we?”

“I have no idea,” Emma replies, which is the truth.

Ruby starts jumping up and down, beaming as much as a wolf can beam, and that finally catches Killian’s attention. He raises both eyebrows in surprise when the wolf replies, “We’re in Narnia!”

“We’re in Narnia,” Emma echoes. “This is Ruby. She’s a talking wolf. In Narnia.”

“Oh my Aslan!” Ruby the talking wolf exclaims, “you’re a boy and you’re girl! Come! You need to meet Granny, right now.”

She grabs Emma’s sleeve with her teeth once more, tugging forcefully enough that Emma is afraid the fabric will tear – which is worse than grass stains. She casts a glance to Killian, who seems to be taking everything in stride and shrugs at her before falling into steps with Ruby. Emma can only follow, as if in a daze, listening to Ruby as the wolf explains that they will have tea, and Granny will explain _everything_.

Emma wonders if Granny is a wolf, too.

Granny indeed is a wolf too, her fur grey and her wolf grin gentle if a little unsettling. She and Ruby live in some kind of hut, along with a dozen other woodland speaking animals. Billy the mouse uses his tail and little feet to get the tea ready, while Granny grabs a blanket with her teeth and throws it on both their laps. Emma shares a glance with Killian, and is relieved to finally see shock on his features.

She pinches him, and he bites down a yelp.

“What was _that_ for?”

“We’re not dreaming.”

He glares at her and rubs at his arm where she pinched him, which is clearly an overreaction. She didn’t do it strongly enough for it to really hurt. “No,” he says, a little defeated. “Doesn’t seem like we are.”

 

…

 

Granny explains it all to them around a cup of the bitterest tea Emma has ever tasted. She tells them of Aslan the Great Lion, and how he disappeared, only for the Witch Regina to appear a few weeks later. Narnia was such a peaceful and lovely realm, Granny says, before she destroyed it all and forced the animals to obey to her. Many a woodland friend lost their life at her hand, and now everyone is afraid of her, and what she will do next.

Ruby keeps whispering about a prophecy, and how Granny needs to tell them, so she does, eventually. With no small amount of sighing and rolling her eyes, which looks a little strange on a wolf’s face, but she does.

“There was a prophecy, a long time ago. It spoke of a girl who would sit on the throne of Cair Paravel, and that this Queen will defeat the Witch Regina. It also spoke of a knight by her side, helping her in her quest for justice and freedom.”

Emma blinks, speechless.

“You think Emma is the queen?” Killian asks, a little dumbfound.

“We know she is,” Ruby replies. “It makes sense, you–”

Whatever Ruby wanted to say next, Emma doesn’t know, for suddenly a loud noise startles them all into silence – it sounds like rocks tumbling down, perhaps an avalanche, perhaps the mountain itself cracking into two. Emma throws Killian a panicking glance, and he grabs her hand under the blanket, fingers squeezing hers reassuringly even if he shares her fears.

“She knows,” Granny whispers.

Before Emma has time to ask who knows what – she has an inkling, but an actual confirmation never hurts – the old wolf pull them toward the back of the hut. There is a hole in the wall, hidden behind a small cabinet Granny pushes away. She motions for them to enter the tunnel, and Killian does so, pulling Emma with him, hand wrapped around her wrist.

“Ruby will come with you,” Granny tells them. “Go to Cair Paravel.”

“But, Granny…”

Whatever it is outside, Emma knows it is dangerous. If the witch kills for sport, one can only imagine what she could do to the animals helping and protecting who is supposed to be her downfall. A shiver of fear runs up her spine, even as Granny’s warm tongue licks her cheek to comfort her.

“Go, child.”

Ruby leads the way through the tunnel, and Emma grabs an oil lamp before following her, Killian close behind. Their journey happens in silence, none of them ready to speak up least they talk of what happened – Emma doesn’t want to theorize over the fate of their newly made friends, so she presses her lips into a thin line, and walks on.

They keep going on for an hour or so before Emma sees the light at the end of the tunnel – literally. It is yet another five minutes before they are out in the open at the edge of the forest. Miles and miles of grassland, with mountains in the distance, and the sparkling blue of the sea to their left. Ruby points to it with her snout.

“Cair Paravel is by the ocean. It should take us a few days, at worst.”

“Let’s go, then,” Killian says, and tugs on Emma’s hand to put more strength in his words.

Emma has no idea when they started holding hands, but she can’t say she minds – behind her bravado, she is scared beyond all reason. She has faced many a dangerous, violent foster parent in her years in the system, carries the scars to prove it, but there is something different about the situation they were thrown in, something otherworldly.

Abusive parents, she can deal with. An evil witch set on killing her? Not so much. Still, she squares her shoulders and refuses to look back as she starts walking, with Killian by her side and Ruby trotting in front of them. She doesn’t believe an orphan was ever meant to be a queen, it is too beautiful to be true, but Emma can try her best, at least. Nobody will blame her for trying.

They only stop at sundown, relieved in not having meeting any enemy yet – Emma knows they will luck out eventually, but she learnt to count her blessings a long time ago. They set camp in a little grove of trees, finding berries for dinner before Ruby wraps herself around Emma’s body for the night. They fall asleep beneath the starry night, none of which Killian can recognize – he has a telescope in his room, and knows them all by heart, in their realm.

She falls asleep the moment her cheek is pressed to Ruby’s soft fur, only to wake up in a startle a few hours later. A howl hoots in the distance, menacing, and thunder cracks over the mountain. Killian’s hand finds hers in the darkness, squeezing just enough to let her know she is not alone.

For the first time since everything starts, she is glad he’s here.

 

…

 

The journey to Cair Paravel takes them four days, one of which is spent hiding in a cave when the Evil Witch’s crows circle the sky in search of them. They spend hours bundled up together and looking up at the dark birds flying above them, only calming down when night fall and only the stars can be seen. They decide to walk through the night, having wasted enough time as it is, and so Emma drags herself until they fall asleep for a few hours at the break of dawn.

Cair Paravel appears, majestic and beautiful, to them on the following day, and Emma grows a little more relieved, and excited, with each step taking her closer to the castle on the cliff. She is still certain that people will realise they were wrong, she is a fraud, once they make it to the fortified city, but Ruby is hellbent on saying she indeed is the Savior Queen, and Emma knows better than to contradict the wolf.

A centaur – a damn freaking centaur, half-man half-horse and all that – opens the gates to the city for them, and Emma can only stare, amazed, at the creatures gather in the streets to watch them pass. Centaurs and fauns and talking animals, some creatures she doesn’t even have names for – fairies and tree spirits dancing above their heads, singing in a language she doesn’t recognize. Emma tries not to openly gape, but mostly fails at hiding her surprise, and her awe.

A centaur walks towards them, the coat of his horse body as dark as the skin of his human body, head shaven and smile gentle. He bows to her, hand on his heart, and Emma clumsily tries to mirror him, probably making a fool of herself in the process.

“Welcome to Cair Paravel, Your Highness. You have been long awaited.” She smiles through her nerves, and it comes out as a grimace. The centaur doesn’t linger on it, though. “I am Lancelot, lord commander of your army.”

“It’s – nice meeting you. I am Emma and this is Killian. My knight.”

Killian stands a little taller, proud as a peacock when she gives him the title. He even smirks a little, and she wants to slap the smugness out of his face. Instead, she kicks his shin, and it does the job alright.

“Belle will help you getting ready for the coronation,” Lancelot goes on, with a hand gesture to a creature standing not far from them.

She is beautiful, in an ethereal way – flowers woven in her brown hair and dress made of a light green fabric, her foot bare and a little muddy. The first word that pops into Emma’s mind is ‘nymph’, which might no be so far off the truth. She follows Belle down the hallways of the castle, Ruby still trotting by her side, while Killian is taken to another room.

Emma is given a bath, finally able to wash out the grim and dust of the last few days, until the water becomes murky with dirt. Then Belle towels her body and helps her into a heavy gown, the kind that squeezes Emma’s chest and pools around her legs. Her hair is pulled into an intricate updo, her lips painted red and eyes drawn black. When she looks into the mirror, she barely recognizes herself – more regal than teenager, more queen than orphan.

She wets her lips, tinting her tongue red, before she nods toward Belle.

(Ruby’s fur was cleaned and brushed, too, and she looks as proud as a wolf can be.)

Everything else from there flashes in a blur of colours, leaving her a little confused and very dizzy – the journey to the throne room, the coronation itself, the words she pips back after Lancelot, swearing to be a fair queen, a good one. The crown lies heavy on her head, the cloak soft on her shoulders, as she faces the Narnians gathered in the large hall. All cheer their new queen, some whistling and some tapping their hooves to the marble floor and it all feels very real all of a sudden.

Emma is a queen.

This is as surreal as things go, when you remember it all started with a magical wardrobe, so Emma does what Emma does best – she shrugs it off, and downs a glass of grape juice. Tomorrow, they will start planning a war against the Evil Witch. Tonight, they celebrate. That she can do.

Especially when Killian appears out of nowhere by her side, sporting a beige outfit and a shit-eating grin, hands clasp behind his back. His hair is even combed, his face dirt-free, so far from the boy next door she knows it takes Emma by surprise for a moment.

“Would you like to dance, Your Highness?” he asks her, with no small amount of sarcasm in his voice. The jerk.

Two can play this game.

“Do you even _know_ how to dance, my lord?”

Killian clicks his tongue and takes her hand in his, pulling her toward the dance floor without another word, throwing her an amused glance above his shoulder. He then puts one hand on her waist, pulling her closer to him, and Emma can only wrap her arms around his neck. It feels more than a little awkward – a few months ago, she was still in her ‘boys are icky’ phase and only recently started to see their potential. And it is Killian. She never even thought of developing her first crush on Killian of all people, the idea laughable at best – and yet here they are.

They sway from foot to foot, not daring to make bolder steps than that, but Emma doesn’t mind – they is something peaceful in their closeness, in the weight of his fingers against hers. She doesn’t want to put it into words quite yet but – she is glad Killian will be the knight of her prophecy, for some reason.

With him by her side, she feels invincible. 


End file.
